


I Spy

by the_100_sin_bin_1985



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Bisexual Female Character, Bisexual Male Character, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Incest, Incest, Incest Kink, Incest Play, M/M, Multi, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Pollen, Sexual Fantasy, Video Cameras, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-06 18:29:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11041812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_100_sin_bin_1985/pseuds/the_100_sin_bin_1985
Summary: Canon-divergent S4.  The City of Light has been shut down, Praimfaya has been averted, and the Sky People are all safely back at Arkadia, settling in to make their new home permanent.  Jasper overhears Abby and Jackson discussing how it’s time for everyone to start having babies, so he decides to (as he explains later to David Miller once he’s caught) “help speed things along” by slipping an herbal Grounder aphrodisiac into the Unity Day celebration punch.  Things get . . . a little wild from there.NOTE: Listen, the basic gist of this fic is "Kane and Abby are high on sex pollen and get turned on by watching Clarke and Bellamy fuck" and it's gonna skirt a little closer to the border of actual incest than polite society generally allows (since Abby is literally watching her daughter have sex) so like if that's not your jam, respect, you will definitely want to skip this one and go on your merry way.GREAT OKAY NOW THAT EVERYONE WHO'S NOT HERE FOR THIS HAS EXCUSED THEMSELVES, LET'S JUMP INTO THIS TRASH BIN





	1. Chapter 1

The scouting trip had returned from Becca’s island with truckload after truckload of new tech and supplies, from medical equipment to power tools, but the new surveillance security system was Kane’s favorite by a long shot.  Carefully modified by Raven from salvaged and reassembled components of ALIE’s drones, it made life for Arkadia’s guards exponentially easier.  Cameras were fitted at every entrance and exit of the camp, where once they’d had teams of armed guards assigned day and night to keep watch for intruders (not that any were ever expected, given the solidity of their ongoing peace with the Grounders, but Kane couldn’t sleep at night if the gates were entirely undefended.  The cameras solved everything; all on-duty personnel were freed to patrol the camp, where they were far more likely to be needed, with only one at a time assigned to perimeter watch, monitoring the camera feeds from the tower.

The installation of the surveillance system made Raven something of a hero among the members of the guard, who found themselves suddenly spared from an endless rotation of six-hour guard duty shifts staring out into the woods where nothing ever happened and trying not to drift off from boredom where Kane or David Miller might catch them.  Even with two of the cameras shorted out for the past three days after a rainstorm – one over the hangar doors and one inside the stables – it was still a dramatic overall decrease in boring night watch shifts, and Raven had never been more popular with anyone wearing a uniform.

Still, someone did have to sit alone in the guard tower over the front gates to monitor all the cameras in case something happened, and tonight it had fallen to Harper . . . who ordinarily accepted every assignment with perfect equanimity, except that tonight was Unity Day.

Kane was a stern boss, but not an unfair one.  And Harper was clearly crushed to miss the party; the moment she saw him post the roster and realized that the poor loser stuck alone in the tower for six hours watching everyone else get drunk and enjoy themselves was going to be _her_ , her whole body collapsed with a crestfallen expression that was equal parts pitiful and amusing.  So Kane heaved a deep sigh, crossed out her name and wrote in his own, earning him a delighted peck on the cheek as the girl scampered off to find Monty.

All told, though, he was far from unhappy with the trade.  It was worth it to give Harper one night just to be a teenager, to go to a party and get drunk with her boyfriend.  It was worth it, just for a few hours, to let the kids be kids, after all they’d been through.  To let life feel normal again, whatever “normal” meant.  It made him smile, watching the carousing crowds of Arkadians around the fire pit talking and laughing.  He didn’t mind being stuck up here, away from the light and the laughter and the noise, if it meant everyone else was happy. Besides, Abby was buried in inventory, restocking Med Bay with the all the new supplies and equipment pillaged from Becca’s lab (she’d done exactly what he did and given Jackson the night off too).  So Kane wasn’t really missing anything worth missing.

And besides, it wasn’t all bad.  It was a beautiful night, clear and starry with a full snow-white moon, and Kane had always enjoyed the view of camp from up here – close enough to enjoy the cacophony of good-natured celebratory chaos down below, far enough away that the voices dimmed and faded enough for him to hear the owls and the breeze.

There was absolutely no chance anyone would be sober enough to think to bring Kane some dinner, so he’d taken the liberty of stocking himself up before his shift began; on a tray next to the monitors he’d brought a crock of Niylah’s spiced vegetable stew and a kind of herbed flatbread, both of which were delicious, and gone in a flash.  He never drank on duty, but he’d bumped into Jasper on his way to the tower and the boy had been peculiarly insistent about sending Kane off with a flask of moonshine (“special Unity Days recipe,” apparently).  Kane demurred, but Jasper would not be rebuffed, so finally he sighed and gave in, and by the time he’d finished his dinner he was glad he had.  Kane had a strong head for liquor, after all; they’d drunk far stronger, nastier stuff than this on the Ark, things better utilized as industrial cleaning solvents, while Jasper’s moonshine didn’t even give Kane a hangover.

And besides, it was Unity Day.

He finished the entire flask before the first hour had passed, and had to admit Jasper’s recipes were improving.  This batch was as stingingly potent as all the rest, but had a new, pleasant, almost floral undertone that Kane couldn’t quite place.  It snuck up on him almost unexpectedly, making him feel loose and relaxed all over; not drunk, his head was as clear as ever, but something else, something . . . warmer.  He couldn’t quite place it, but he certainly enjoyed the feeling.

It was just as he took the last swig of moonshine and reached over to set the flask aside that a flicker of something in his peripheral vision pinged his attention and snapped him back into focus.  The system cycled automatically through each camera’s feed on a loop, so by the time Kane realized he’d seen movement out of the corner of his eye where no movement should be, the cameras had moved on.  He clicked backwards, trying to find it again.   West entrance, clear.  North entrance, clear.  Front gates, clear.  Hangar doors, clear.  Stables . . .

There it was.

He sat forward, squinting at the surveillance monitor.  Yes.  There it was.  Someone had just entered the stables.  He considered radioing down to David Miller, but held off; it might just be Octavia taking Helios out for a ride to get away from the noise; he couldn’t tell from this angle, but Raven had taught him how to adjust the cameras remotely from the control keyboard.  He could only shift the angle by an inch or two either direction, and zoom in and out, but it would be enough to get a better view of whoever was inside if he or she moved just a bit further towards the stable’s empty back corner, where a gap in the ceiling panels let in piercing shafts of moonlight and made it easier to see.

The shadowy moving figure did, in fact, oblige him by moving into the light, and resolved itself almost immediately into two figures – who, from what they did next, were most emphatically not Octavia and Helios.  But it wasn’t until a shaft of moonlight broke across a cascade of white-gold hair and a tall dark shape unfurled a blanket on the heap of dried grasses in the back corner where the horses fed that Kane realized what was happening.

Clarke shared a room with Raven and Octavia, and Bellamy slept in the barracks; so while it was no secret around camp that they were an item, Kane had sometimes wondered how on earth any couple at camp (or rather, any couple which didn’t conveniently include a Chancellor with his own bedroom) ever got a moment alone.  The answer, it seemed, was to wait until everyone at camp was drunk and distracted, then sneak away to the one building where no one was likely to venture in the middle of a party, and whose security camera had been broken for days.

Except, of course that it wasn’t, because Raven had poked her head into the on-duty room to inform him that she was still working on the one over the hangar doors but the one in the stable was back online, and Kane had written himself a note to notify Bellamy so he could spread the word to everyone else, but then Abby had come in to bring him some lunch because she knew he hadn’t eaten, and the security camera in the stables had completely escaped his mind until just now, when he realized with a hot, mortified flush sweeping across his entire face that Bellamy and Clarke had absolutely no idea he could see them.

It could not have been more clear that the two young lovers believed they’d found a completely secluded corner; they were right in the camera’s line of sight, perfectly illuminated by moonlight, kissing frantically and tearing at each other’s clothes with remarkable efficiency. They were exposed in a private moment, without their knowledge, and it was completely Kane’s fault; the least he could do was switch the stable camera off and leave them alone.

He wasn’t totally sure, in fact, why he didn’t do just that.

He thought about doing it.  He meant to do it.  He saw his hand reaching out for the manual shutoff button labeled “CAMERA 8 (STABLE, INTERIOR)” and pressing it.  But he didn’t move.  That strange feeling of dizzy warmth Jasper’s moonshine had given him appeared, bizarrely, to intensify as he watched Bellamy tug his t-shirt off and duck his head to nuzzle between Clarke’s breasts; it swept through his body like wildfire, drowning out the voice of logic and sanity that continued weakly pleading with him to turn off the camera.  But he couldn’t.  The warm feeling wouldn’t let him.  Instead, he moved his chair closer, leaned in, and – with a hot flush sweeping over his whole body as he looked outside to make sure the coast was clear – flipped the metal switch labeled “AUDIO FEED (CAMERA 8).”

The first sound he heard was Clarke, now stripped down to her bra and panties, gasping with pleasure as Bellamy’s mouth worked frantically between her breasts, his hands roaming all over her body.  Fire lanced through him, causing an ache between his thighs to rise up so quickly it shocked him.  It wasn’t just the astonishment of seeing these two people he knew so well doing things he’d never imagined them doing before, and it wasn’t simply that the girl’s warm, breathy sighs were dizzyingly erotic (although they were, clearly to Bellamy as well as himself).  It was that he _recognized_ them.

She sounded, he realized with a guilty start, exactly like her mother.

That should have been enough to get him to see sense and switch off the cameras, if anything was.  But the warm feeling had taken over his whole body by now, he was pliant, unresisting, he couldn’t fight it.  He couldn’t look away.  Not now that they had moved over to the blanket, illuminated perfectly by moonlight through the cracks in the rafters as though someone had staged the scene perfectly for him to see. 

Now stripped down to their underwear, they began to get down to business, and Kane swallowed hard as he watched Clarke drop to her knees in front of Bellamy, tugging the waistband of his gray shorts down enough to lift free a luscious, half-hard cock and bring it to her lips to place a soft kiss on the very tip. “Fuck, Clarke,” Bellamy moaned, and Kane felt electricity rocket through his whole body, his own cock swelling up almost instantly in response.

 _Turn this off, right now_ , said the voice of sanity inside his head, but it was fruitless.  He was entranced.  He couldn’t stop now if he wanted to.

Clarke’s lips parted to take the cock inside, and Kane cursed the camera mount for being so high on the wall that he couldn’t get a closer look at it . . . before he suddenly remembered, guiltily, that he actually could.  Blessing Becca for her impressively thorough surveillance technology while cursing Jasper for whatever the hell he’d put into this moonshine, Kane’s fingers flew over the keyboard as he entered the manual control codes Raven had taught him to activate the remote zoom function.  Heart pounding, knowing he was crossing a line but it was too late now to turn back, he let himself take a closer look.

Bellamy’s cock was gorgeous, thick and long and flushed a rosy purple, swelling rapidly in Clarke’s nimble hands as she stroked the shaft, lips wrapped around the tip.  The audio feed was frustratingly limited – he ached to hear the wet suckling sounds her pink lips were making – but Bellamy’s low moans turned Kane inside out.  He’d never looked at the boy like this before, hadn’t been with a man or even thought about it in years and years, but the sound of those raw, panting breaths made Kane’s whole body shiver.  Goosebumps rose up along his arms, a red flush swept his face, sweat beaded at his temples, his heart pounded like a martial drum in his chest as Bellamy grunted with pleasure, hands tangled in Clarke’s gleaming golden hair. 

Finally, Kane couldn’t hold out any longer. _God help me,_ he thought, surrendering completely as one hand dropped furtively to the zipper of his jeans, tugging it down and lifting his cock free.

Dimly, the remaining sane corner of his mind was reminding him that spying on two people he’d come to look on very nearly as family while one of them gave the other a blowjob was something he ought to find horrifying, and he was conscious enough of that voice, as his hand moved up and down the shaft of his own cock, to realize that something was wrong. He knew it wasn’t that he was drunk; he’d finished the whole flask, but he was used to Jasper’s moonshine by now, it had never taken him this way before.  This was something else.  Something new.  Something he had no intention of fighting, even though he suspected he probably should.

But God, there was so much to look at, so much to _want,_ so many new desires he’d never even considered, all surging through his body with volcanic force.  How had he known Clarke Griffin all this time and never considered her breasts?  God, the heavy round fullness of them, that flawless creamy skin, the perfect pink nipples tightened into stiff little peaks he wanted to suck so badly he felt faint.  He wanted to nuzzle his mouth in between them where Bellamy’s had been and hear her make that gasping noise that Abby made when he did the same thing to her.  He wanted Clarke’s hands in his hair as he took her nipples into his mouth and then fisted her golden curls with one hand to hold her in place while his other hand slipped into her panties to find her soaked little clit. 

But he also wanted to be where Bellamy was right now, he wanted to stand in front of her while she knelt at his feet, he wanted it to be his cock in her mouth, he wanted to feel those sweet rosy lips sucking hard as that little pink kitten tongue swirled against the tip, making sloppy, contented, wet moaning sounds as she smiled up into his hungry dark eyes.

But he also wanted it the other way around, wanted it with a force that shook him down to the bone.  He wanted to be the one kneeling on that scratchy wool blanket, reaching out with something like reverence to cradle that utterly magnificent cock in his hands before parting his lips to taste it.  He wanted to feel Bellamy’s strong hands caress his hair with impossible tenderness and hear him groan “Fuck, Marcus,” in that same gruff urgent voice, he wanted to open his mouth and take Bellamy all the way inside and feel the heavy hot weight slide deeper, deeper, into the back of his throat.

He wanted so many things he’d never thought to want before, not once.  He wanted to cradle them both against his naked body, one hand between Clarke’s golden thighs to stroke her clit and one on Bellamy’s cock as they curled up trustingly with their heads pillowed on his chest.  He wanted to lie down side by side with Bellamy as their tongues plunged into Clarke’s sweet wet cunt together, making her scream as they licked and suckled and kissed both her and each other.  He wanted to plunge deep inside her from the front as Bellamy fucked her from behind and they held her wrapped in two pairs of strong arms, kissing each other with hungry ferocity as her golden head rested against his shoulder.

He wanted . . .

_No._

_No._

This one, he could not have.

The picture that appeared unbidden in his mind shocked him so badly that he recoiled, sitting up straight, remembering who he was, who they were, what he was doing, why it was wrong.  He reeled for a long, horrible moment at the shocked realization of just how far over the line he’d let himself go.

 _Turn the camera off, Kane,_ said the voice of sanity, and he very nearly did.  He reached out a hand towards the button, when a sudden movement startled him into freezing mid-motion, and before he even knew what was happening, there was Abby.

He hadn’t heard her approach or climb the ladder, distracted as he’d been, and his heart was still pounding from the shock by the time she made her way over to him.  She didn’t say a word, and didn’t appear to see the monitor screen, but she did see his hand on his cock, and smiled with mischievous delight before climbing into his lap and replacing his hand with her own, pressing her mouth wetly against his.  She tasted like Jasper’s moonshine – he could smell it all over her, in fact, she’d obviously had even more of it than he had – and for a long moment Kane forgot about everything in the world that wasn’t the feel of Abby’s precise, gentle fingers stroking his cock as she licked hot and hard into his mouth.

Finally she pulled away, caressing his beard with her free hand and grinning at him.  “I thought you’d get bored up here,” she murmured wryly.  “I see you decided to make your own fun.  Did you find something nice for us to watch?” 

“Abby . . .” he protested weakly as she turned around to get a better look at the monitor, leaning in close, then froze in shock.

“Fuck, yes, that’s it, that’s so good,” groaned Bellamy as Clarke’s mouth parted to take him all the way inside.  Abby turned back to stare at Kane, eyes wide, expression impossible to read.

“Clarke,” she whispered hoarsely.  “It’s Bellamy and Clarke.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Abby,” he murmured, desperately attempting to read her expression, mortification sweeping over his body but, uncomfortably, failing to dispel even a whit of the haze of lust he was feeling.  Even Abby's presence, even realizing how this must look to her, how wrong it was, could not make his heart stop pounding with desire.  "Abby.  Listen, I . . . Abby, please.  Please look at me."

But Abby seemed hardly to hear him at all.  She was riveted, staring open-mouthed at the screen, breath coming suddenly very harsh and fast as Bellamy gripped Clarke by the shoulders, pulled her up from her knees to kiss her, and then sank down on the blanket on top of her, kissing his way down her pale skin towards the downy fair hair between her thighs.  Kane said her name again, gently, but she was still frozen in place.  Only the way her knuckles went white as she reached out to grab the edge of the desk to brace herself indicated that she was in the grip of some powerful emotion.

"Why does it feel like this?" she whispered, voice so low he almost couldn't hear.  "Something is happening.  All over camp.  Not just me.  Why does it feel like this?"

"Abby . . ."

"He's just a boy," she said softly, and Kane swallowed hard, following her eyes as she stared, blinking like she was going dizzy, watching her watch Bellamy Blake nuzzle his dark head between Clarke's pale thighs.  "He's a kid, they're all just kids, I shouldn't be thinking . . . I shouldn't want . . ."

"Abby."

"And you feel it too," she said softly, but it wasn't a question.  "You want him too.  But we shouldn't.  Something's happening, Marcus, something's different, I want . . ."  She stopped suddenly, going still and rigid and tense all over as Clarke arched her back with pleasure and began to moan in earnest, writhing happily against Bellamy's mouth, clutching at his shaggy curls.  _"Oh,"_ Abby whispered, voice threaded with astonishment.  "Oh.  She sounds like _me_."  She turned back to look at Kane, face flushed pink, biting her lip, eyes shining with some unfathomable expression.  “It’s like listening to me.  This is what I sound like.  To you.”  Kane nodded, not sure how to respond, every gasp of Clarke's causing his still-aching cock to pulse and twitch as Abby's gaze was pulled irresistibly back to the screen.  “It’s like . . . it’s like knowing what she’s feeling,” she murmured, realizing.  “Like I can _feel_ him.  Like I know what he’s doing to her, from the sounds she makes.”  Clarke’s hips lifted sharply just then, a short, high-pitched exhalation tumbling out of her lips.  “He’s sucking her clit,” Abby said, then immediately recoiled, like she was ashamed of herself.  “I shouldn’t know that.  I shouldn’t be here.”

Summoning every last ounce of fortitude and self-control, Kane reached out and flipped the switch to shut off the monitor.  Instantly something in Abby seemed to ease, though she couldn't stop staring at the black screen as though still imagining the picture anyway.  He reached out for her hand, pulling her back towards him and down onto his lap.  She settled into him immediately, leaning back to rest her head against his chest, taking his hands in hers and wrapping his arms around her waist to hold her there.  “Something’s happening to us, isn’t it,” she whispered.  “It’s not . . . I’m not drunk, but I feel . . .”

“I think there’s something in the moonshine.”

“You feel it too?  I mean, it's the same for you?”

“Yes.”

“You feel all . . . all shivery, and strange, and hot all over, like you just need to –"  She broke off, suddenly shy, but Kane whispered a soft "yes" against her throat as he kissed his way down from her ear to her shoulder, making her shiver, sliding one hand down her hip and across her thigh to rest, heavy and warm, over the crotch of her jeans.

“How did you get it?” he asked, unable to resist letting his fingers move just a little, brushing the denim seam, swallowing down the urge to tear the fabric off her with his bare hands.  He could feel the waves of desire rising up in her as well, which she fought back down as hard as she could until she could get her story out.

“Jasper came by while I was working, and left a bottle on my desk,” she explained.  “He told me . . .”  She paused, trying to recall.  “He told me it was stronger than usual, and to be careful who I shared it with.  He said ‘Kane can probably handle it, but I wouldn’t share this with anyone else.’  And then he kind of laughed, but didn’t say why.  I figured he was already drunk.”

“How much did you have?”

“All of it.”

“How much was all of it?”

She gestured toward the flask on the desk.  “A little less than twice that size.”

“ _Jesus Christ,_ Abby!” he whispered, voice low and stunned.  “No wonder you’re feeling –"

"Yeah.  It came on fast, too; I was fine, and then suddenly . . . the whole world was different.  Like I was charged with electricity."  She rested her hand over his, pressing him even more firmly against her.  His fingernails scratched lightly over the thick denim, making her squirm.  “I didn’t know what was happening to me,” she went on, voice trembling a little, “I just knew that I wanted you.  That I _needed_ you.  Right away.  It hit me fast and then it just got stronger and stronger.  I've never felt anything like it."  She shuddered a little at the memory, but there was more than a little pleasure in it too.  "You’re lucky you were safely alone up here, when it hit you," she told him, "instead of down there with everyone else, like I was."

Something faintly evasive in her voice pinged an alarm bell in his head, and he cupped her cheek in his hand, turning her to face him, raising one eyebrow.  "All right," he said firmly, unable to keep the trace of amusement out of his voice.  "What did you do?"

“Nothing happened,” she insisted, a trifle defensively.  "I didn't do anything."

“Abby . . .”

“I was on my way to you, and I ran into Niylah –"

“Oh, no.”

“She looked at me like she knew something was wrong, and I tried to wave her off but I must have been . . . well, more obvious than I thought I was.  She just sighed and said, ‘All right, how much did he give you?’, but of course I didn’t feel drunk and I didn’t know what else she could mean so I just waved her off and kept walking.  But she grabbed my hand and said she thought I should go to bed and lock my door and sleep it off.  But I told her I was fine, that I was going to see you, and she sighed again and said, ‘All right, but go straight there and don’t talk to anyone else.’  So I did.”

“Well, that's all right then.  So nothing happened."

“Well, all right, _fine_ , I left out the part where I might have . . . kissed her, a little bit.”

“Abby!”

“I didn’t _mean_ to!  It just happened!”

"Did she kiss you back?"

"A little.  Not really.  She took me by the shoulders and shoved me out the door and stormed off to go find Jasper.  Come to think of it," Abby mused, remembering suddenly, "she did say something about 'sixth one today,' but I thought she meant drunk people.  Though now I realize . . . she might not have."

“ _Christ,_ this stuff is potent,” Kane said, shaking his head.  “And we have no idea how long until it wears off?”

“No, that much I do know.  Niylah said six to eight hours.”

"Shit," Kane exclaimed, heart pounding in something like horror.  "Bellamy's on the next shift.  Alone.  He'll be coming to spell me off in a little over four and a half.  What if I’m still . . . we’re still . . .”

"That could get interesting," Abby murmured, gently unbuttoning the top button of her jeans and tugging down the zipper.  Kane swallowed hard, but obediently moved his hand inside to rest over the soft cotton of her panties, as she writhed happily against him.

"Abby."

“Maybe it will wear off on its own if we’re . . . spent,” she suggested.  “Maybe it only feels this way right now because we . . .”  She broke off with a gasp as his fingers brushed over the thin cotton, petting lightly at her cunt, and arched up towards him, wriggling her hips.  “Because we . . .”

“Maybe,” he agreed.  "Only one way to find out."

Abby reached down and gripped his still-exposed, still-hard cock in her hand, opening her thighs and leaning back against his chest.  “Put your hand inside,” she commanded, voice trembling, the warm haze of desire beginning to overtake her again.  “I need you to touch me.” 

“Yes,” he whispered, sliding into her cotton panties as she tugged her shirt and jacket off, tossing them on the floor, and resumed stroking his cock.

“Marcus,” she said suddenly, voice shaking.  “Marcus, I want . . . I know I shouldn’t but I want . . .”

“Tell me what you want," he breathed, eyes drifting closed, savoring the warm pressure of her hand, the sweet weight of her body melting into his.  "I'll give you anything."

“God, don’t make me say it, I can’t, it’s not, I don’t know what’s happening to me –"

“Abby, what –"

“Turn it back on,” she whispered, words tumbling out in a rush, desperate, mortified, pleading, voice threaded with raw need.

“Abby," he murmured, shocked to his core, both that she had been the one to say it out loud and by the magnitude of how badly he suddenly wanted it too.

“Please,” she begged him.  “Please, Marcus.  Please.”  So, with a trembling hand, afraid of what this might make him but unable to stop himself now that the idea had been planted, he reached out and flipped the metal switch again, bringing Clarke and Bellamy back into view.

He was still going down on her, with impressive care and patience.  Clarke’s white skin was flushed pink and her hair damp with sweat, she’d clearly come at least once already while they weren't watching.  This time both Kane and Abby noticed the large empty moonshine bottle sitting with the two young people's discarded clothes on the floor of the stables, and suddenly a great number of things became more clear.

“Well, that explains a lot,” Kane observed, fingers working gently over Abby’s clit as she began to moan softly, making him shiver; her voice was an exact echo of her daughter’s.

“Oh God,” Abby panted.  “It’s happening again, Marcus, it’s like I can _feel_ him.  Like I can feel what she feels.”

Kane felt a warm golden haze of intoxicated lust sweep over him.  “Close your eyes,” he murmured, kissing her hair, circling her clit gently with his finger.  “Imagine him.  Imagine him here.  You’re in my arms and he’s kneeling between our thighs and looking up at us -"

“Yes,” she gasped, tugging frantically at the waistband of her jeans and panties, lifting her hips to pull them down around her ankles as Kane did the same, freeing them both to press against each other skin to skin.  The shaft of his massive cock bumped against the warm damp hair of her cunt as she stroked it slickly in deft, slim hands.  “He touches you, like this, and strokes you up and down,” she murmured.  “Like he’s stroking himself, right now, look.”

Kane looked back up at the screen and saw it, swallowing hard.  Bellamy’s hand was working hard and fast, jerking his cock as his dark curls rose and fell between Clarke’s pale thighs.  “Fuck, yes,” Kane gulped, sweat beading at his temples.  He wanted it.  He wanted it so badly.  But which he wanted most - Bellamy's hand on his cock, or his on Bellamy's - he didn't know.  Everything was a blur.

“Did she,” Abby whispered, voice faltering.  “Before I got here.  Did she go down on him, first?  Did she get him hard?”

“Abby –"

"Is it just him, Marcus, is it just Bellamy making you like this, or was it . . ."

"Abby, no -"

“Do you want her to suck you off?” she whispered, her voice shaking, shocked at her own boldness, and once she'd said it he couldn't lie to himself about it anymore.

“ _Fuck,_ Abby,” he grunted, fire rocketing through him as her fingers slicked the tip of his cock with precum.  “Oh God, I . . ."

“I want to watch,” she whispered recklessly.  “Marcus, I feel . . . it isn’t fading, it’s getting stronger, everything feels all . . . strange and warm and dizzy . . .”

“Abby . . .”

“I would kneel there next to her,” she whispered, “and hold back her hair.  And tell her how you liked it.  Where to touch you.  Where to kiss you."

“Oh, fuck, Abby . . .”

“Did she take him deep?  Could she take you?”

“Yeah,” he groaned, hips lifting into her hand, unable to stop picturing it now that Abby had planted the image.  Clarke kneeling between his thighs, looking up at him, smiling, Abby caressing her golden curls and murmuring, _That’s it, sweetheart.  Good girl._

“And you want his mouth too, don’t you,” Abby whispered, gasping sharply as Kane’s fingers found her clit.  “You and me, sitting like this, while he kneels down and swallows your cock.  Oh God, baby, I want to see that.”

“Abby, I’m so close,” he panted, her hand moving faster and faster, stroking him hard.  On the screen, they watched and listened as Clarke came with a high, soft cry, sending shivers down both their spines and heat coiling low in their bodies.  Abby's breath came fast and shallow and her skin was flushed all over but she couldn't look away.

“Is that what I sound like?” Abby breathed.  “I can feel her again, when she came it was like I could feel it.”

“Oh God, Abby . . .”

“I’m not supposed to want this,” Abby whispered, “but I can’t remember why.  Everything’s fuzzy now.”

“Abby, please . . .”

“Hush, baby, he’s going to come now too,” she said, and then Bellamy did, grunting hard and low and soft as he spurted white cum all over Clarke’s smooth flat belly. They listened, hearts pounding, the low rough sounds of his cries bringing them both to the brink, making them both think thoughts about him they could never have imagined before just now.  Then, suddenly, "Look," Abby said, pointing at the screen.  "Jesus.  Marcus, he's already almost hard again.  He came, but he’s still . . . he didn’t . . ."

“Good God,” Kane murmured, “what the _hell_ did Jasper put in that moonshine?”

Bellamy didn’t seem to share their astonishment at all.  They watched as he flopped down on the blanket with a happy sigh, pulling Clarke down on top of him to kiss her, laughing.  Her hand worked his cock lightly, gently, and it occurred to Kane and Abby that these two had almost certainly snuck off with that bottle of moonshine on purpose, knowing _exactly_ what it would do.  (Niylah’s handiwork, no doubt, since she seemed to be doing the job Jasper wasn’t of attempting to contain the havoc and making sure everyone was using the intoxicant responsibly.)

Clarke and Bellamy kissed for a long time, her perfect, smooth back and round ass rising and falling as Bellamy’s strong arms wrapped around her.  Kane and Abby watched, lost in a warm erotic haze, all sense of propriety gone, stroking each other closer and closer to climax.  “Let me make you come,” Abby whispered.  “Let’s see if it works for you too.”

“Oh God, Abby, I’m so close already . . .”

“Go harder,” she whispered, “let me catch up to you.”  So he went harder, faster, savoring her cries of pleasure as the tip of his finger finally found her clit and began to rub it in hard, urgent, frantic little circles.  Abby thrashed and moaned on top of him, gasping for breath.  “Yes, yes, right there, right there, baby, please, make me come . . .”  

“I will, love, I will.”

Abby’s fist began to pump harder, faster, harder, faster, gripping his cock, the shaft now coated in a thin sheen of precum.  “Close your eyes, so you can see him,” she ordered.  “I’m him, he’s here, my hand is his mouth.  Can you feel him?  Can you feel Bellamy choking on your cock, baby?”

And Marcus could.  The pressure of Abby’s hand, slick and tight and perfect, blurred and faded into the same warm haze that had overtaken his brain and he could see it, _feel_ it, Bellamy’s handsome freckled face gazing up at him, that wry little half-smile Kane liked so much, only this time wrapped around a mouthful of hard, aching, swollen cock.  Kane saw himself cup the boy’s cheeks, clutch at his hair, heard himself groan “Yes, Bellamy, yes,” over and over again.  

They came at the same time, gasping, shuddering, the orgasm piercing through them with a potent, fiery heat, the force of it _shocking._ They sat there for a long time, warm, shivery, catching their breath, slowly realizing that they were spent but not sated; they needed a few minutes to catch their breath, certainly, but Marcus’ cock returned to iron hardness almost right away.

As they came back to themselves, a soft moan from the screen captured their attention, and they suddenly realized that Bellamy was on his back, Clarke straddling him, leaning down to look into his eyes, hips lifting to position herself over his heavy, erect cock.  “Oh God, oh Jesus, Abby, they’re going to fuck,” Kane whispered in her ear, heart pounding.  “If you want to turn this off, if you want to stop . . .”

Abby rose to her feet without a word, and leaned forward to brace her hands on the desk.

So that was it, then, he thought to himself, assuming she was about to reach out and switch off the monitor - and flushing all over with astonishment and desire as he realized she was merely steadying herself so she could kick off her boots and tug her jeans down after them.  He stared at her in motionless shock as socks, panties and bra followed, all in a discarded heap on the floor.

"You too," she ordered impatiently, making her way naked to the far wall to lock the narrow metal door, leaving them in complete privacy.  “There,” she said, satisfied, turning back to him.  “Now, where were we?”


	3. Chapter 3

Whatever Jasper put in the moonshine gets stronger before it wears off, they figure out very quickly.  It’s nothing like being drunk, everything’s sharpened instead of blurred, their senses impossibly attuned to each other.  Every soft little gasp of Clarke’s lances through them like hot metal.  They can smell each other’s arousal.  When Abby leans in to lick up the hollow running down the center of Kane’s muscled, powerful chest, the taste is addictive – musky and metallic and raw, making arousal pop and fizz and sizzle through her bloodstream.  Everything their bodies perceive is heightened, but everything their minds and emotions know begins to fade, muffled sounds coming from far away.  _Look at that beautiful girl,_ Abby thinks, watching Clarke on the screen.  _Look at the way she can take that whole cock inside.  I’m so proud of her._ And it doesn’t feel wrong, she can’t remember why she’s never done this before, why she’s never asked to watch Clarke fuck Bellamy, why she’s never invited Clarke to watch her fuck Kane.  It’s just pure beauty, pure sex, gorgeous bodies moving together in unison, she wants to watch it forever and she’s already forgetting why she resisted this in the first place. 

She settles comfortably on Kane’s lap, leaning back against his chest like they were before, only this time she sinks down onto his cock, exhaling in relief at the sheer bliss of feeling him fill her up.  “Fuck, Abby,” he groans as her hips begin to rock against him, and then they’re off.

Both the Griffin women like to be on top, Kane notices, as his fingertips slide up Abby’s soft skin to pinch at her nipples; a few moments later, Clarke leans in, hands planted firmly on Bellamy’s shoulders for leverage, hips slamming into his, and Kane watches Bellamy reach up and do the same thing with the same warm wave of pride Abby feels.  _Good, Bellamy,_ he thinks, pleased.  _She’ll like that._  

Clarke and Abby sigh in harmony, the daughter’s voice high and the mother’s low, but it’s the same sound.  Kane feels sorry for Bellamy, who doesn’t get to enjoy the shocking, illicit pleasure of listening to them both at the same time, and as Abby rides him hard, hips rolling against his, taking his cock deeper and deeper, he wishes with a fierce, hungry desperation that they were all in the same room. 

Not just to hear and see closer up, but perhaps to introduce a bit of variety. 

He closes his eyes, listening to the raw, hungry moans of all three voices and he sees them in his mind, all four of them writhing under the sheets of his big soft bed.  He sees Clarke beneath him, all pink and gold and soft and smiling, whispering “harder, Kane, please” as his cock drives in deep.  (She would call him “Kane” in bed, he thinks, grunting in pleasure as Abby’s hips move faster.  She’s never called him anything else.  He likes the sound of it, that faint hint of submissiveness if she addressed him so formally.  When he imagines her calling him “Chancellor,” his cock grows so hard it hurts.  He sees her kneeling in front of him in his office, naked in front of him in full uniform, tugging down his zipper with her teeth as she looks up at him with big obedient blue eyes.)  He sees Abby on her back, next to her daughter, their hands lovingly entangled together, as Bellamy, beside him, thrusts hard into Abby, his young strong back arching as he comes deep inside her.  (Bellamy would call him “Kane” in bed too, Bellamy would roll over onto his stomach and fist the sheets until his knuckles turned white, grunting “oh God, yes, Kane, yes” into the pillow as Kane’s cock pushed thickly inside.)

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” Abby whispers into his ear, breath warm, voice shaky.  “About them.”

“Neither can I.”

“I want to watch you fuck her, Marcus,” she murmurs.

“Oh God, Abby, and I want to watch him fuck you.”

“Yes,” she sighs, gazing at the screen as Bellamy reaches up to wrap his arms around Clarke’s slender back and flip her over onto the blanket in one smooth motion, taking control and driving his cock into her so hard they watch her bite back a scream.  “Oh God, look at him, Marcus, look at them.  I wish we were all together.”

“Abby,” he groans, as his cock begins to pulse and tremble inside her.  He can feel it coming.  “Abby.  Tell me what you imagine.”

“You could fuck me together,” she whispers, nibbling lightly at his earlobe.  “You could lay me down between you and fuck me at the same time.”

“Oh, Jesus, Abby . . .”

“You’d feel him,” she purrs, hips rocking faster and faster.  “You’d feel his cock, pressing against yours, inside me.  You’d feel each other.  It would be like fucking him.”

“Abby, oh God, Abby . . . “

“Fuck,” groans Bellamy, and they watch him cry out and come deep inside Clarke, collapsing heavily against her chest.  Kane comes a moment later, hard and fast, astonished that he still has this much cum left in him so soon after the last time, marveling at the effects of the potent moonshine and wondering how many times he can last over the next few hours before his body simply gives out and he crashes completely.

He never does find out, because they lose count after the second hour passes.

Clarke and Bellamy have the same inhuman, impossible stamina, not to mention younger and more energetic bodies; Kane and Abby have to pause in between for a little longer, catch their breath, let things settle for a moment, before diving back in for another round, but the younger couple doesn’t have to.  They do collapse on the blanket together for a brief nap around hour three, but they’re back at it again around forty-five minutes later.

By the time they hit hour four, Kane and Abby are a sweaty, sticky, loose-limbed mess, and Kane is beginning to remember that there was a reason Abby needed to be gone and he needed to be cleaned up and dressed again by the time they hit hour five, though he can’t recall what it was.  But Bellamy has Clarke up against the wall of the barn now, and it’s so good, neither of them can tear their eyes away.  Her palms are braced against the rough metal wall, golden hair tumbling all down her shoulders in a sweaty tangle, Bellamy’s powerful hands gripping her white thighs as he fucks her over and over again.

“You want me like that?” Kane asks Abby, voice low in her ear, and she nods.  “Rough?”

“Yes,” she whispers desperately, voice dazed and faint.  “Rough as you can.”

So he grips her waist and pushes her down against the cold metal of the tower’s long desk, just at eye level with the screen, and spanks the inside of her thighs with his palm very lightly to prompt her to spread her legs, widening her stance to lift her perfect ass up towards him.  She makes a low, keening, hungry sound, planting her hands on the metal to keep herself upright.  “You want me to fuck you like this?”  She nods eagerly.  He leans in and licks up a rivulet of sweat cascading down her back.  “Close your eyes,” he commands her.  “We’re going to fuck you together, just like you wanted.”

“Marcus,” she whimpers, but the word dies on her lips, choked out by a groan, as his cock slams into her soaked, aching, ravenous pussy.  She’s so slick inside he bottoms out with no effort, fingers of one hand digging into the soft creamy flesh of her hip so hard he sees pink marks when he lets go.  The other hand slides down her back, palms the round swell of her ass, and then . . .

“Oh!” she cries out, as he crooks one finger inside, fucking her ass in perfect rhythm with the heavy in-and-out slide of his cock.

“We’re fucking you together,” he murmurs.  “Imagine they’re here.  They’re with us.  Imagine we’re all together.”

“Yes,” she pants, rocking back towards him.  “Oh God.  Yes.”

“Both our cocks inside you.”

“Yes, yes, yes.”

“This is the last time,” he tells her, “you have to go back after this before we’re caught.  So I’m going to make it count.”

“I can’t go back there alone,” she whispers desperately, thighs trembling as he thrusts into her again and again.  “My whole body is on fire, you’re the only thing that makes it better . . .”

“There was a reason, but I can’t remember it,” he admits.  “I think . . . I think someone else is coming.  But I can’t remember who.  But we can’t let anyone else see us like this.”

“But you’ll come to my quarters as soon as you can?”

“I promise.”  He slide a second finger into her ass, curling them deep inside her and drawing out a sharp, high gasp of shocked pleasure.  “Now imagine that Bellamy is here, Abby, imagine we’re both inside you.  Imagine him making those sounds for you.”

“Oh God, Marcus,” she panted, gripping the metal desk so hard her knuckles turned white, bracing herself on trembling legs.  “Yes.”

“Can you feel them both here, Abby? Can you feel the four of us together?”

“Yes, yes, yes . . .”

“Good,” he murmurs.  “Now touch yourself.  Reach down and stroke your clit.  Lightly.  The way you like to be licked.”

“Marcus, oh God, I’m so . . . it’s too . . .”

“Do it,” he orders her, suddenly unexpectedly, thrillingly dominant (it’s often Abby who calls the shots in bed, so this side of him is shocking and new).  So Abby obeys, sliding one hand between her thighs to the swollen, drenched little clit which is still sensitive to the touch after the past several hours, but ready to come again anyway.  She rubs her fingertips in tiny circles, the way Marcus ordered her to, the way she likes him to circle it with gentle strokes of his tongue, peppered with soft little kisses.  He leans down to nuzzle into her neck, cock and hand still working her open in tandem.

“This is the thing I can’t stop thinking about,” he breathes into her ear, nuzzling kisses against her throat.  “If they were here.  You on all fours, while I kneel behind you – “

“Yes, yes . . .”

“Fucking you like this.”

“Yes, Marcus, oh God, don’t stop . . .”

“And Bellamy would straddle you,” he goes on, sliding a third finger into her ass until she cries out brokenly with pleasure, “to fuck you like this.  And maybe let me eat his ass while he does it.”

“Oh God . . .”

“Are you still touching yourself, Abby?”

“Yes, oh God, yes . . . Marcus, I’m so close . . . “

“So if my cock is here,” he whispers, something wicked and hungry in his voice, thrusting into her, “and Bellamy’s is here –“ And he curls his fingers deep inside her, kissing her cheek as she choked out a groan.  “Then who is kneeling between your legs, licking you exactly the way you like it?”

Abby gasps, a hot flush sweeping over her cheeks, but once it’s there she can’t force the image away, as hard as she tries. 

“No,” she whimpers, “no, I can’t, we can’t, it’s not, she’s, I can’t . . .” 

But she doesn’t stop touching herself, her hand keeps moving, faster and harder, fingertips deft and light over her clit, perfectly mimicking the flicks of a sweet, soft, pink little tongue, a tongue which would know exactly how to draw forth maximum pleasure, would know every detail of how Abby liked it best.

“Marcus, I,” she whimpers, “I, please, oh God . . .”

“Let us fuck you together,” he breathes into her ear, sliding his other hand down to her cunt to cup hers, holding it in place so she can’t break free, so she can’t escape herself, “picture it, imagine it, imagine us all there – “

“Oh, God, Marcus, I’m about to – “

“Let us make you come.”  His voice is low and warm against her skin, hips crashing against hers, and the thing they’re both picturing which neither of them can speak out loud sends him over the edge, cock spurting heavy and hot inside her cunt as he slows to catch his breath, bracing himself with both hands against the desk to steady himself.  She comes a heartbeat later, and it would be a lie to say it isn’t the soft kitten-lick strokes of her own fingers that does it, making her come so hard they both nearly lose their balance.  He promised to make the last one count, and he delivers; never in her life has she experienced a climax this shattering.

They sink down naked against the blissfully cool metal floor, sated for the moment, shaking and sweaty, their thighs and legs and stomachs a sticky mess.  “I’ve never,” she murmurs between heavy, gasping breaths.  “I feel . . .”

He nods, chest rising and falling as he gulps down air, as his racing, hammering heartbeat finally slows back to normal.  “I know.”

“Will we remember this tomorrow?” she wonders, fingers sliding up the damp hair of his chest, thumb circling his nipple until he closes his eyes and inhales sharply with pleasure.  “I can’t remember if I asked Niylah.  I can’t remember what she told me.  I can’t remember anything that isn’t this.”  She kisses him, curling up into his body, and after only a few minutes he feels his cock beginning stirring to life again.

He wants her again. 

He needs her again.

But he can’t. 

He kisses her back, pulling away regretfully to sit up, trying to press down the already-rising tide of arousal inside him, to force the ache of erection to fade away.  There’s a bucket of cold water and a rag in the corner which they use to cool down the metal on hot afternoons; it helps, a little, cooling their flushed, heated skin and sluicing away the traces of each other smeared all over their bodies.  But the smell of sex remains in the air, they can’t get rid of it, it seems to have soaked into the room itself, and Kane wishes he could remember what was the thing that was supposed to happen and how much time he has before it happens. 

They’ve never dressed more reluctantly; it’s misery to tuck his rock-hard cock back into his pants, where it strains against the zipper, and even though it’s concealed when he sits at the desk he’ll never make it back to his room at the end of his shift in this condition.  (This thought pings something – something about the end of his shift – someone’s coming to take over, but he can’t recall who – someone who won’t be able to escape noticing the tented swell between his thighs, which won’t be gone until the sun comes up if Niylah’s math was right.)

They notice, as they dress, that at some point between the last fuck and now, Clarke and Bellamy have gone too, vanished back to their own beds, presumably, to sleep off the remainder of their moonshine.  Kane flips the switch which returns the monitor to its regular scan, clicking from camera to camera all over the camp in two-second intervals.  All clear.  The party at the fire pit is still in full swing, though it’s changed from drunken carousing to something that looks a bit more like what’s been going on up here and in the barn – clusters of bodies in twos and threes and fours, moving together in the shadows.

Well, it’s the first public festival they’ve thrown without a single drunken fistfight, the sane part of his mind thinks wryly, so perhaps he owes Jasper a thank-you. 

He kisses Abby goodbye at the door, but this turns out to be a terrible idea.  A soft press of his lips against hers turns into something wilder and hungrier as her mouth falls open against his, and his hands grip the waistband of her jeans to pull her close.  She nudges his thighs apart with one of her own, clutching at his hair, dragging him down to meet her, letting him back her up against the wall, and their hips begin to move, denim grinding against denim, it’s torture but they both might just be able to come this way, her cunt pressed hard against his thigh as her own sends shivers of friction against his cock. 

“It just gets harder to stop every time,” she whispers into his throat, mouth warm and wet on his skin.  “If we come, it will just make it worse.”

“I know.”

“But I can’t let you go.”

“I know, I can’t either.”

“Marcus,” she pants, fisting at his hair.  “We have to stop.”

His cock is pressing so hard against the thick canvas of his pants that he feels faint, and he knows she’s right.  If he doesn’t send her back to her room right now he’ll throw her up against the wall and have her right there, and they don’t have time for that (why don’t they have time? He still can’t remember).  With infinite reluctance, he lets go of her and steps back, breathing hard, watching her straighten her shirt and already-mussed-again hair before stepping out the metal door. 

He locks the door behind her but doesn’t watch her go.  Watching her lithe, athletic body climb down that metal ladder wouldn’t be good for him in the state he’s in.  He tries cold water again, slicking it through his hair, dabbing the cloth at his pulse points to cool down his skin.   He paces back and forth, breathing hard.

Nothing helps.

It’s a relief when, half an hour or so later, he hears the knock at the door.  His whole body is on fire.  He needs another orgasm, he needs it now, he has at least another hour if not longer before this begins to wear off, and frankly he’s willing to run the risk of being caught just to be able to fuck her again.

The knock comes again, and he pulls back the lock to open it and let her in.

But it’s not Abby.

“Hey,” says Bellamy, ignoring Kane’s shocked stare and entering the tower, closing the metal door behind him.  “Sorry I’m a little early.  Why’d you lock the door?”

Everything that sex had pushed out of Kane’s mind comes roaring back, including the reason it was so important that all traces of his and Abby’s activities be gone by the time the clock ticked over for the guard shift change.  He looks around the room frantically, but the coast appears clear.  Bellamy is taking off his jacket, hanging it on the hook, everything appears normal so far, and Kane can’t spot anything in the room that would give him and Abby away. 

Except one.

Bellamy is about to take Kane’s seat at the monitor when he spots it, the remnants of Kane’s dinner on the tray in the corner with the telltale flask sitting beside it.  Kane watches the discovery as though in slow motion, cursing the quickness of Bellamy’s brain and the keen sharpness of those eyes that miss nothing.  Bellamy looks at the flask as though considering whether it means what he thinks it means, before the sight on the monitor arrests his attention: every security camera clicking through one by one, every view of the camp in an endless loop . . . including the now-empty stable.  Kane flushes in hot mortification as Bellamy looks from the screen back to the flask again, then back over to the guard tower door, which Kane had had to unlock to let him in, pieces clicking into place inside his head.  He hasn’t placed Abby in the picture, which makes the whole thing even more humiliating, but as he rises slowly from his seat, his eyes flick downwards to the straining bulk between Kane’s thighs, and Kane knows he knows everything.

His whole body aching with an agonizing, furious combination of lust and shame, Kane balls his fists tight, staring down at the metal floor, mind racing, trying to collect himself, trying to think of something, anything to say.  His shift is over, he’s free to leave now that Bellamy’s here, but somehow bolting out the door and down the ladder feels like too blatant a confession, too clear an indicator of guilt, and he wracks his brain trying to think of an explanation that will even partially defuse the glaring trail of evidence Bellamy has so efficiently put together in about three seconds flat.

“Bellamy,” he begins, but it wasn’t a good idea, because saying his name out loud just takes him back to all the times he said his name over the past few hours – moaning his name as Abby sucked his cock, pretending Bellamy was doing it; whispering to Abby what he wanted to do to Bellamy, what he wanted to watch Bellamy do to her; listening to Clarke say it over and over, in every possible inflection, ordering, cajoling, gasping, groaning, crying it out as she came.

It’s a dangerous name now, it feels so good in Kane’s mouth, it’s so delicious as it rolls off his tongue, raspy and low, and at this point he thinks it’s better for them both if he does just make a run for it, because he can’t trust himself to behave in Bellamy’s presence for a moment longer.

He makes his way to the door, but he doesn’t get there.  Bellamy stops him, blocking his way.

“Bellamy,” Kane says again, wanting it to sound like a warning, like “get away from me,” but it comes out as “come closer” instead because he’s still takin too much pleasure in saying it, so Bellamy doesn’t move.  Kane hears the metal latch of the door drop into place. 

He’s trapped here.

 _Okay,_ he tells himself, _he knows, and you’re not going to be able to get out of this with a lie, so you might as well just tell him the truth and hope that eventually he either forgets or forgives you._

“Bellamy,” he begins again, steeling himself to confess, but he loses the words he was going to say next when something entirely unexpected happens.

“Keep saying it,” Bellamy murmurs, crossing the space between them in one long stride and angling sideways to back Kane up against the metal wall, and then everything else in the whole world is forgotten as he tugs at Kane’s belt with one hand and his hair with the other.

“Bellamy,” Kane says again, helplessly, a raw aching whisper, naked, plaintive, all the confession Bellamy would need if he didn’t already know.  The want is so raw, so visible, he can’t fight it down anymore.

“The green light on the camera was on,” Bellamy whispers, hips grinding against Kane’s, pushing him back against the wall, burying his face in the corded tendons of Kane’s neck.  “I was hoping you were watching.  Looks like I was right.”

“Bellamy,” Kane moans again, and at this point it’s almost ludicrous, it’s the only thing he can say, he can’t seem to form any other words, but Bellamy doesn’t mind, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against Kane’s.

“I’ve got about an hour before this starts to wear off,” he whispers.  “So I sent Clarke to bed and came up here early.  To find you.”  He inhales deeply, and Kane knows Bellamy can smell the musky aroma of sex permeating his skin, hair, clothes, body.  He can smell it on Bellamy too.  “There’s one thing I wanted that she can’t give me,” he murmurs, lips so close to Kane’s that Kane can taste his breath.  “There’s one thing I want that you have and she doesn’t.”  Kane swallows hard, silent, heart pounding, frozen in place.  “Say my name again,” Bellamy whispers, “say it like you wanted to say it when you were watching us.”

“Bellamy,” Kane whispers, and it’s the last thing he says for a long, long time as Bellamy’s mouth crashes against his.


	4. Chapter 4

Bellamy is broad where Abby is slender and hard where she’s soft, and everything’s different.  

The shock of the kiss throws Kane off-balance, so at first, Bellamy has him completely overpowered and he can’t do anything but give in.  It’s an alien sensation, being kissed by someone nearly as big as he is, as strong as he is, and it feels dangerously decadent to submit. To let Bellamy back him hard against the cold metal wall, one hand fisting Kane’s hair, the other gripping the waistband of Kane’s black denim jeans, bringing both swelling cocks together, grinding hungrily through layers of fabric.

“It smells like sex in here,” Bellamy murmurs, tugging at the older man’s hair to tilt his head back, opening up his throat for rough, hungry, nuzzling kisses.  “You smell like sex.”

“Bellamy . . .”

“I recognize it,” he breathes.  “Abby was here too, wasn’t she?” Kane swallows hard, and Bellamy looks as though the picture of it has stunned him into near silence.  “God, they even _smell_ the same,” he groans, breathing deeply, eyes closed, letting the scent wash over him. “I wonder if they taste the same too.”

“I’ve been thinking about that for hours,” Kane pants as the boy’s mouth returns to his skin.

“You didn’t know, did you?” he whispers.  “It took you by surprise.” Kane nods dumbly, eyes pressed closed, the rasp of Bellamy’s five-o-clock shadow a delicious scritch against his skin.  “It gets worse before it gets better, Niylah told us,” he explains. “By the last hour or so it’s like a fever, like your whole body is on fire.”

“Bellamy . . .”

“I need you to fuck me, Kane,” the boy cuts him off, firm, decisive, almost a command more than a plea.  “Hard, and rough, and as many times as you can before this wears off.”

Kane’s entire body becomes one hot, red, furious blush and he can’t possibly say anything in response to this.  Can’t even open his mouth. Because the only thing he could possibly say is “yes,” the only thing he could possibly say is “that’s what I want too.”  He swallows hard, opens his mouth to try and speak, but he chokes on his words as he hears the hum of a zipper sliding down and a hand clamps hard and firm around the shaft of his cock.

“We have an hour,” Bellamy whispers into Kane’s ear, “so we have time to do it again.  And again. We have time, and we don’t have to wait.”

“Oh,” Kane whimpers faintly as the hand picks up speed, and then suddenly he’s reaching out and fumbling too, and in a heartbeat the gorgeous dick he was licking his lips over while Abby sat in his lap tumbles free into his hand, long and thick and sleek and half-hard already.  Bellamy nods breathlessly, pleased.

“We have time for me to get on my knees and suck you off,” he whispers with shocking boldness, “and we have time for you to bend me over the table.  You can come more than once. Did you figure that part out already? You must have. You look shattered.” Kane manages a fraction of a laugh at this.  “But we can do it as many times as we want, Kane, we have time, you’re going to come in my ass and you’re going to come in my mouth, but right now, the first time I want you the way I dream about you sometimes – up against the wall of the guard tower, wearing your uniform, fully dressed, with your hand on my cock.”  And he strokes harder and harder, causing Kane’s whole body to flinch like a knife is slicing through him.

“You’ve dreamed about this?”

Bellamy's voice whispers hot against his skin, below his ear.  “Yeah.  Long before this.  Does that shock you?”

Maybe a different night it would, Kane thinks.  But all he can think about now is how much more shocking the things he’s already done tonight are, the things he’s thought, the things he watched.  Nothing can shock him more than the way it felt to come with a deep, low growl as he pictured Clarke kneeling prettily on a wool blanket and leaning forward to press her soft pink lips against –

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Bellamy interrupts him, voice breathy and raspy against Kane’s skin.  “Whatever it was, it just made your cock so fucking hard I could feel it pulse in my hand.”  Mortified, Kane remains silent, but Bellamy just grins.  “Suit yourself,” he shrugs agreeably, “I’ll just fuck it out of you.” And then his hand begins to move as he proceeds to do just that.

It was wicked enough with Abby, who he sleeps with regularly, but it feels _electric_ with Bellamy.  The whisper of wrongness and the allure of experiencing everything for the first time collide and leave both men dizzy.  Bellamy’s hand on his cock is strong and sure and perfect, and Kane groans hungrily, forehead resting against the boy’s as his breath comes in low, desperate gasps.

“You know how I like it,” Bellamy reminds him with a crooked half-smile.  “You watched. You know exactly how to make me come, don’t you?”

Kane nods, a little breathless, his own hand picking up speed.  “But you didn’t see me,” he retorts, “so you’re flying blind.”

Bellamy laughs.  “I’ve been thinking about it for hours, Kane,” he murmurs, “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

And he really fucking does.

With his free hand, Kane grips Bellamy by the back of his neck, holding him far enough back that Kane can see every expression on his face but close enough to taste each other’s breath.  Bellamy plants his other hand on the wall above Kane’s right shoulder, bracing himself against the onslaught of pleasure and pinning Kane in place. They don’t kiss anymore, they just watch each other, taking it in.  Flushed skin, beads of sweat. Bellamy bites his bottom lip when he gets close, which Kane finds outrageously erotic. His own jaw clenches as he struggles to maintain control, to pace himself, to come when Bellamy does.  The cock in his hand is smooth and heavy and he feels faint at the promise of tasting it (of tasting Clarke on it). This should be wrong, Bellamy’s been the closest thing he’s ever had to a son, before tonight none of this would ever have occurred to him, but now he’s nearly delirious with lust and all he wants is to come inside Bellamy over and over - in his hand, in his mouth, in his ass - as many times as he can until this wears off.  He wants to feel every inch of Bellamy against him. He wants to hold him close and fill him up. He wants to cradle him in his arms and watch him come and come and come and come and come.

“Did you watch us fuck while you fucked Abby?” Bellamy whispers, breath warm against Kane’s ear, and the older man nods.  “Did Abby come?” His hand grips Kane’s cock even tighter, thumb gliding in circles over the pulsing tip, now slick with precum.  “Did Abby like it?”

“Bellamy . . .”

“I dreamed about them together once,” the boy whispers recklessly.  “I’ve never told anybody before.”

“Don’t, oh God, Bellamy, don’t, I’ve been trying so hard not to - “

“Both of them in my bed,” he continues, ignoring the older man’s halfhearted protestations, “all soft and sweet and naked, waiting for me to fuck them . . . holding each other’s hands . . . and then every once in awhile, they’d lean over and cradle each other’s faces, and I’d fuck them both with my fingers while they kissed . . .”

Kane comes with a harsh, guttural cry, spurting hot and white into Bellamy’s hand and all across the black fabric of his jeans.  Bellamy gives him a grin full of mischief. “You like it too,” he whispers. “You’ve thought about it too.”

Kane, spent, can only nod, his hand still busily working Bellamy’s cock.  

“Let me feel you come,” he murmurs to the boy, pulling him close, and Bellamy melts into him, resting his head on Kane’s shoulder as the older man’s hand drops down to his back, stroking up and down his spine, lust and affection intermingled, and the cock in his other hand begins to throb.  It’s _tenderness,_ he realizes, the thing that makes Bellamy’s whole body respond. He’s good at fucking but he’s starved for affection. “Come here, love,” he breathes, kissing the boy’s hair as he hears a long, shuddering groan erupt from him. “Come here.” His hand grips the shaft of Bellamy's cock, gliding smoothly up and down, faster and faster, as he nuzzles warm kisses into his hair.  

Bellamy comes hard and heavy, striping Kane’s uniform with white, then dissolves into the older man’s arms, and for a long moment they just hold each other, panting, shaking, backed up against the cold metal wall.  But it only takes a few minutes for both cocks to stir to life again.

"Too many damn clothes," Bellamy mutters as his hands get to work, and they're clumsy as teenagers, tugging off jackets and shirts, yanking off belts, kicking everything haphazardly into a pile.  It all smells like sex now, they'll have to be careful when they take their clothes to the laundry tomorrow, but there's hardly time to think about that for longer than a second before Kane finds himself shoved roughly, naked, back down into the chair he and Abby had made such good use of before, as Bellamy sinks to his knees, exactly the way Kane had imagined it, and bends his head to take the older man's cock into his mouth.

There hasn't been anyone but Abby in so long, but this is different too.  Abby is soft even when she's firm and assertive with him, the way he likes it; her lips and tongue are delicate even when she uses them to draw impossible pleasure out of him, even when her powerful doctor's hands pump up and down and grip him tightly.  But Bellamy is rough, hard, not just assertive but aggressive, and it's all so _masculine._   And _fuck,_ it feels good.  It feels like heaven, having a man's mouth on him. Bellamy eats him like he's starving, and Kane begins to believe the boy meant what he said about just how long he'd been thinking about this.  The lust seems to pour off him in waves, like sweat. Like a cloud so thick Kane can feel it, smell it.  Bellamy's rough, gun-callused hands clamp down hard on Kane's thighs, locking him in place, pinning him to the chair, the tips of his fingers pressing into the flesh so hard that Kane wonders if he'll have bruises tomorrow.  It's glorious. 

Bellamy doesn't suck his cock like he has a ton of experience in this area, he appears guided entirely by desire and instinct, which might be why he charges in so boldly to try and deep-throat Kane's massive thickness, something that's still even a struggle for Abby.  But Bellamy doesn't have any fear, and he's smart enough to get the angle right, and if Abby were here (and if Abby were _sober_ ) she might have some very interesting thoughts on how much of the gag reflex is psychological rather than physiological and that a drug-induced erasure of inhibitions could well be a useful tool in relaxing the particular muscles needed for this task.

But she isn't here, she's in her own bed, and she might or might not be alone, a thing Kane is frantically, desperately trying not to think about, so it's just him, leaning back in the chair, hands caressing Bellamy's thick dark curls as the boy's throat opens easily and then oh God, _oh God,_ he's _all the way inside,_ he can feel the tip of Bellamy's nose nudge into his skin, he's encased in heat and wetness, and then Bellamy closes his lips and _sucks,_ and Kane can't tell for a moment if his eyes are open or closed because everything goes black and he starts to see stars.  Bellamy moves one hand lower, from Kane's thigh to the aching balls resting between them, and kneads them gently in his hand as he sucks and sucks, precum and saliva dripping everywhere, too much to hold in his mouth with this much cock in it, everything slick and damp, Bellamy's contented, sighing moans of pleasure muffled by thick wetness, and Kane closes his eyes, and then they're _there,_ in front of him, in his mind's eye, those two slight, beautiful bodies, curved waists, perfect full breasts, long silky brown hair tangling with glossy blonde curls as their heads lean together, arms around each other, biting their lips, eyes wide and dark with desire, cheeks flushed, two perfect ripe cunts glistening with wetness as they watch Bellamy choke happily on Kane's enormous cock.

He comes with a roar, back arching off the chair as the force of his orgasm rockets through him, but the younger man is ready, swallowing so eagerly and so roughly that it draws the climax out even longer.  His hands pump carefully, deftly, draining every last drop of cum out of Kane and leaving him shattered, sweat dripping from his temples down his jaw, sheening his neck and chest.  He can't move from the chair, his thigh muscles have gone liquid, but he reaches down to grip the younger man's shoulders and pull him up, gripping his waist and yanking him forward until Bellamy is straddling his lap. 

"I want to fuck you so badly," he whispers as he tugs Bellamy's head down towards him, hands fisting his hair, and tastes the remnants of his own cum all over the boys lips and tongue, arms clamping hard round his back to hold him in place as he simultaneously descends from his climax and feels his cock begin to swell back to life again.

It's a sturdy enough position, all told, since the back of the chair is braced against the metal counter, which is close enough for Bellamy to grip it for balance.  There's something undeniably intoxicating in the idea of bending Bellamy over the counter and taking him from behind - there's something rough and male and animal about it - but he's not ashamed to admit that he wants it this way more, that he wants to be able to feel Bellamy's skin against his own, to kiss his mouth, to look at him when he comes, to _hold_ him.

"Ready yet?" Bellamy murmurs.

"Give it a minute," Kane chuckles breathlessly, "you were pretty damned thorough before."

Bellamy answers by taking Kane's cock roughly in one hand and beginning to pump it, all the cum and saliva mixing together and coating it slickly enough for the task at hand.  The drug does solve at least one of the problems it creates, Kane thinks wryly; with a recovery period this short, no one would ever be in need of artificial lubricant.  It's harder to try and find a square inch of their bodies that _isn't_ wet.

"I'm impatient," Bellamy retorts, grinning, "you're one ahead of me now."

"I'll even the score, I promise," Kane assures him, kissing his way up the boy's throat before finally feeling his cock swell back into hardness in Bellamy's hand.

"Thank God," Bellamy mutters, almost irritable, as though the mere minutes he's had to wait were nearly unbearable, and then rises up to angle Kane's head at his entrance and lower himself back down again.

Both of them lose their minds at once.

 _"Fuck!"_ Bellamy exclaims, shuddering with his entire body as his ass opens and opens, lust and gravity together combining to press him downwards and take Kane's cock inside him inch by inch, stretching him open with an ache of pain-pleasure so good it brings tears to his eyes.  "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh _fuck."_

"Go slow, it's okay," Kane murmurs, wrapping his arms tighter around Bellamy, holding him, soothing him, stroking his back with warm, open palms, kissing his shoulder, his neck his hair.  "Just breathe, love, just breathe with me.  God, you feel incredible.  You feel so good.  I can't believe you feel so good."

"It didn't . . . _ah!_ Oh, Jesus . . . it didn't feel this big . . . in my mouth," Bellamy manages to choke out between gasps, which makes Kane laugh.

"Maybe you just have poor depth perception."

"You're really gonna make jokes now?"

"Well, you did start it."

"Shut up," Bellamy growls, eyes flashing with amusement and affection, and grips Kane's hair to yank him up for a kiss.

His hips rock and shift and shudder as he groans into Kane's mouth, muscular body trembling and taut with exertion, until he's finally, finally resting on Kane's muscled thighs, too spent to move right away, the entirety of the man's massive cock inside him.

Kane can't form full sentences, just mumbles dazed, delirious fragments of words against the boy's hair between kisses.  "So good," he pants, "fuck, good, so good . . ."

"How does Abby do this every night?" Bellamy mutters, "how does she _walk_?"

Kane flushes at this, embarrassed and pleased, but any quip he might make in return is silenced as Bellamy reaches out to grip the cool metal countertop with both hands and slowly, experimentally, rock his hips.

"Oh!" gasps Kane, stunned into incoherence, and then they're off.

Bellamy rides him hard, the metal back of the chair slamming over and over against the counter, so loudly that a more conscientious Kane would worry about them being overheard.  But he doesn't even think about that, just feels the metallic clang reverberate deliciously through his bones in perfect synchronized rhythm with Bellamy's ecstatic, inarticulate cries of pleasure.  Kane plants one palm hard and firm on Bellamy's back, holding him in place, and lets the other drift down between their bodies to grip Bellamy's cock.

"I'm so close," he gasps, "come with me."

Bellamy nods, gritting his teeth, hips rising and falling in a deep, hard, rolling motion, leaning forward, forehead nearly resting against Kane's, their dark eyes locked together, and when Kane comes for the first time Bellamy lets go of the metal counter, slowing his movement, cupping Kane's jaw in both his hands, eyes greedily drinking in every expression passing over Kane's shattered face, as though he's desperately trying to lock it into his memory.  His own climax follows shortly after, and Kane's strokes grow gentler, softer, as the sticky cock in his fist begins to lose its iron heat. 

"Was it everything you wanted?" Kane can't stop himself from asking, and Bellamy answers by crashing his mouth against Kane's so hard that it knocks the breath out of his lungs.  Their arms wrap around each other, sticky skin pressed together, hearts hammering, tongues rough and forceful.  Kane's cock slips out of Bellamy and they both feel the pooling of warm wetness trailing all over their thighs.  Kane's a fastidious man, he folds his uniform jacket the same way every morning, he lines up his books by height, he makes his bed every morning, he tends to his small corner of private space with a near-military precision that Abby finds both endearing and annoying.  He can't help it.  He likes things tidy.

So he barely recognizes this version of himself, this wild-eyed beast with mussed, rumpled hair whose entire body is smeared in Bellamy Blake's sweat and saliva and cum, whose mind can't seem to shake the insidious whispers of that alluring, incestuous fantasy Bellamy has coaxed him into admitting.

"How close are you?" Bellamy demands, reaching back out for Kane's cock, and sure enough, they're both ready again, sated and yearning at once, bodies exhausted but also aching for more.  Kane goes in much easier this time, since Bellamy is still full of him, and when he collapses forward onto Kane's shoulder, letting out a long, ragged exhale of pleasure, Kane hears something in it that's also relief.  He feels it too.  The drug's effects are waning, and they've entered the worst of it, where fucking has become like scratching an itch; any moment they aren't doing it, however brief, is misery until they're doing it again. 

They fuck in the chair until both of them come again, and then they take a brief, silent, shaky respite to kiss and catch their breath before doing it again, this time testing out a new position - Bellamy on his back on the floor, Kane kneeling between his thighs and then sinking down on top of him.

It's Round Four where the astonishing thing happens.

Bellamy's grown comfortable with it now, it isn't new anymore, he's starting to learn what he likes, starting to take control more decisively, and the reversal from their ordinary lives - this alternate world where Bellamy, the subordinate, growls orders and commands that Kane hungrily obeys - is intoxicating.  It doesn't even matter that Kane is the one on top, it's Bellamy driving everything, Bellamy asking for exactly what he wants.  "Deeper," he whispers roughly, and "slower," "harder," "right there, right there, don't stop."

Kane doesn't stop.  He drives into Bellamy over and over, hot and wet and slick, feeling the younger man's flesh open up more and more easily each time, feeling the muscles yield, feeling Bellamy's body get used to him, without losing the hot sweet clutching sensation that grips his cock with almost unbearably glorious friction.  His hand works swiftly up and down Bellamy's soaked, sticky cock, coated in so much cum that every flick of his wrist makes a soft liquid sound.

"Make me come," Bellamy whispers, "I'm so close, I'm so close, Kane, you feel so good inside me, don't stop, don't stop . . ."

"I don't ever want to stop," Kane whispers, reaching up with his free hand to cradle the boy's face as he fucks him into the cold metal floor, hand moving fast and wet over his cock.  Bellamy comes with a choking gasp, his whole body contorting, his eyes flying open wide and stunned, as though this one's somehow different and he can't figure out why.  It's extraordinarily powerful, he comes for a long, long time, and his hands fly up to tug at Kane's hair and pull him back down for a hungry kiss.

"More," he groans between kisses as Kane's hand continues to work his soaked, softening cock up and down, making his whole body shudder, "more, more, please, more . . ."

Kane's heavy cock drives in and out as their mouths move against each other, hands tangled in each other's hair, Bellamy's hips lifting up and up to take Kane as deep as he can, whimpering desperately for more, more more, and it goes on like this for several minutes before Kane pulls away, stunned.

"That one was real," he breathes, eyes wide.  "Bellamy.  You didn't . . . you're not . . . "

And Bellamy realizes suddenly that Kane's right. 

He's not.

They're long passed the increasingly narrow window of recovery time, but Bellamy's cock is still soft and spent, pressed between Kane's stomach and his own, which means Bellamy's drug-induced delirium wore off with that last, forceful climax.

But he never stopped begging for more.

Kane stops moving, staring down at him.  "You were telling the truth," he says softly, and Bellamy - slowly coming back to himself, the haze clearing from his eyes - flushes a little as he nods, and looks away.  He can't meet Kane's eyes anymore.  "When you said that this was something you wanted.  I mean that you'd wanted before."

"Kane . . ."

"Your skin is cooling down," he observes, laying the back of his hand against first Bellamy's forehead, then his own.  "The fever's breaking.  You're just you again."

"What about you?"

"Getting there," he says, "I think it will probably clear my system after . . ." 

He stops. 

He's still buried inside Bellamy, still pressing the younger man's body down into the cool metal floor with the weight of his own, still sticky and damp with cum and sweat, but the madness is starting to fade a little, like a fog lifting inside his mind, and he realizes that he can't rely on the consent he obtained when they were both drugged as though it must hold automatically now.

"Bellamy," he begins hesitantly, but Bellamy shakes his head.

"Please don't stop," he says softly.  "Please, Kane."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"We won't be able to just sleep this one off," Kane cautions him.  "We're sober now.  We're going to remember."

"I know."

"In the cold light of day, this might all feel very -"

"Fuck me," Bellamy interrupts him hoarsely.  "Please."

Kane shudders with an entirely new kind of pleasure at the realization that it's the real Bellamy, the one he knows and loves, back in full possession of his faculties and still asking for what he wants.

So he lets himself go.

He sinks down, soft and heavy, onto Bellamy's chest, as the boy lifts his thighs to wrap around him and anchor the older man's body in place.  He leans in until his forehead is nearly resting against Bellamy's and cradles his face in his big, callused hands, and lets his hips rise and fall to drive deeper and deeper inside.  Bellamy's delirium is gone, he can feel everything, and he inhales sharply with every thrust like he knows he's going to be sore tomorrow but he doesn't care. He just stares up at Kane with wide dark eyes, chest rising and falling, as Kane glides in and out, in and out, over and over, until his last orgasm hits him with a shocking force, and sends him collapsing against Bellamy's sweat-sheened torso with a low, guttural cry.

Utterly spent, they're asleep in minutes.

They don't know how long they lay like that until the first rays of sun begin to shimmer through the darkness, and then the delicious exhaustion of the previous night transmutes instantly into the panic of discovery.  They do the best they can with the mess they've created on the floor and counter and chair, but there's nothing to be done with their clothes and their bodies except to make their way as swiftly to the showers as they possibly can before anyone else at camp wakes up.  They dump their clothes in a wet heap in one shower stall (soaked with water is easier to explain away than soaked with other things, Bellamy reasons) and share the other.

"This," murmurs Kane, as Bellamy runs warm hands full of herb-scented lather all over his bare skin, "is rather dangerous."

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No. That's why it's dangerous."

"It's not really morning yet," Bellamy reminds him.  "We can still sleep all of this off.  We might wake up in four hours and forget the whole thing."

Kane backs him up against the wall of the shower, steaming hot water sluicing down his back, and kisses him again.  It's a different kiss than all the others, it isn't desperate and furtive and wild and fueled by some herbal intoxicant.  It's aching with longing and a hint of sadness as much as it is full of desire.  "We can't tell them," he murmurs.  "You know we can't.  They can't know.  Which means they can't know about . . . this."

"We'll figure it out."

"Bellamy . . . "

"We'll figure it out," the younger man repeats, more firmly this time, as though trying to convince himself as well as Kane.

"How?" Kane demands.  It's impossible to contemplate, which surely Bellamy must know.  They can't tell Clarke or Abby any of what passed between them all tonight without leading them all into territory too wicked to consider sober. The things he thought . . . the things he wanted . . .

. . . the things he _still_ wants, he realizes with a desperate, miserable ache.  Oh God.  The drugs wearing off didn't take the fantasy with it.  It's still there.

"There's three more bottles of that stuff stashed in my quarters," Bellamy says, eyes flashing with mischief.  "How hard would it be to come up with an excuse for the four of us to take a trip together?"

"Abby has some equipment she'd like to bring back from Becca's lab," Kane says almost without thinking, "and it would go faster if we could take both the Rovers . . ."

". . . and we'd get at least two nights in a house with a huge bed. Perfect."

Bellamy gathers up his soaked clothes from the shower stall and pulls on his wet t-shirt and shorts, wringing out his pants and jacket as he heads for the door to return to the guard tower for his post.

"Three more bottles, huh?" Kane repeats dryly as he watches him go, and Bellamy has the good grace to look a little embarrassed.

"Well, it only seemed fair," he said, "since I'm the one that gave Jasper the idea for it in the first place."  He tossed Kane his pile of soggy wet clothes.  "Now go get some sleep."


End file.
